


Sky Full of Song

by halosaximus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, M/M, Magic, Nymphs & Dryads, THEY'RE GONNA BE NAKED FROM TIME TO TIME, Tony Stark Deserves Better, names aren't exactly what they're supposed to be but you'll know who's who, non-graphic nudity, this is set in ancient greece, zeus is a thotty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 11:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halosaximus/pseuds/halosaximus
Summary: Anthony, close to death, is saved by a nymph of the ash trees, a guardian of his own forest. As time passes, he comes to find that there is more to this meliad than he’d first anticipated.





	Sky Full of Song

**Author's Note:**

> yeeeeeeeeee we goin FULL GREEK HERE, YALL !!!!!! SADDLE UP !!!!!!!!!! also be warned, tony has a total of one (1) dirty thought
> 
> ALSO the story of circe told in this fic is based completely off of Circe by Madeline Miller, and just barely follows her actual mythological lore. shes an absolute unit

Anthony was completely aware they had lost sight of him at least a mile ago. He knew he was bleeding out from various gashes along his body, some mere scratches while others blurred his vision with the loss of blood. He was as safe as he could be in the middle of those foreign woods, and yet, he kept running.

It was only when he could see the most faint glow of light beyond the trees that his legs finally collapsed beneath him, and he fell breathlessly to the cold, relentless ground. He quickly realized how horridly his bones ached, and that the gashes littered about were most likely infected, by then. It didn’t help much that blood dried to nearly every inch of his legs, and the meager clothes on his back were nothing but mucky rags. It then became apparent that he was dehydrated- extremely so- and he settled upon the fact that he was close to death (though, something told him it wouldn’t be swift).

If he were to die, then, he knew he would die in honor. He was not a soldier, nor a noble, and he certainly did not deserve the title of either, but he had lived a greater life than a king in his final production. Those ill, dying children had the medicine that had been hampered from their keeping, and with that thought in mind, he found himself letting his eyes fall closed and praying they remain shut, if only to stave off another douse of pain.

He felt a tickling at his nose, and he kept from groaning as he forced his eyes open once more. Perched on his nose was what looked to be a butterfly, and his suspicions were confirmed as the insect took flight, the blues of its delicate wings fluttering in the first light of dawn.

His eyes followed it curiously, turning as it flew towards a patch of trees beyond. Anthony’s brows furrowed, however, when it circled back, dancing above him before continuing in its intended path once more. What was odd even more so was how the butterfly continued these indications until it became apparent to him that they were indications in the first place.

He put a valiant effort into making it back to his unreliable legs, his eyes darting along the beds of wildflowers before placing one foot in front of the other and stumbling in the butterfly’s direction. His movements were slow but the insect had patience, and he began to follow it deeper and deeper into the wood.

He could see the stark blue of the sky when he noticed how the trees were now spread further apart, yet their age showed clear with the thick roots sprouting from the dips in the earth and the breadth of their trunks. They stretched close to the ground yet not uncomfortably so, and on some he passed, ripe fruit hung down begging to be plucked from their stems, despite the seasons going on spring.

The butterfly lead him to a river in the far distance where he saw a lean figure sitting upon a swing made of thick, flowered vines draped about a tree. It must have been his imagination, he concluded, for this man was far too enchanting to be any more than a mirage. The man’s body was enfolded in loose, purely white fabrics, yet they still hung close to the lithe form he boasted so elegantly. His skin was tanned yet pure, and Anthony suddenly pondered how many days this man sat beneath the sun upon that very swing. Still, he grew closer as he continued to stumble towards the bank.

The stranger was feeding what looked to be berries to a young doe, not yet mature though not terribly young. She was nearly as staggering as this man, however, and his beauty was only amplified the closer he grew. When the man turned his head to face Anthony, the doe shied away though refrained from sprinting.

He extended his now-emptied hand and the butterfly landed gently upon his slender finger before turning to face his guest, and Anthony stopped in his tracks just meters away. He kept his balance, but his knees threatened to give out at any moment.

“Who are you?” He practically croaked, his throat quite nearly a desert. The flowing water beyond looked inviting, but he was far too entranced with the stranger to care.

The man gave him a fond smile, as if they’d known each other for years. Anthony relished in the warmth of it. “My name is Stephanos. I am the guardian of these woods.” His voice was deep yet smooth, dripping with vivid imagery of dark browns and rustic gold of autumn. It only lulled Anthony closer to sleep. If this were to be the last thing he saw, the last thing he experienced, he would find no room to complain.

“Oh, dear mortal- you are close to death, most certainly!” Stephanos stood from his swing and put his fingers to his lips, giving a shrill whistle that almost seemed to echo throughout the forest. Anthony found his eyes dropping closed once more as the sound of a distant stampede rung low in his ears, growing closer. “Fret not, mortal; I should have known your peril when I sensed it!”

Stephanos now stood before him, studying. His eyes frantically searched about Anthony’s body as the sound of heavy hooves grew closer still, and he stumbled back in an attempt to keep his balance. Stephanos’ attention was dragged away when a large, bull moose came hurtling through the underbrush, dragging with it a large sleigh tied to its saddle.

“Come now, mortal, we do not have much time!” Stephanos wrapped an arm around Anthony’s middle and slowly yet steadily began to lead him towards the sleigh. It was certainly inviting; it was constructed of smooth wood with winding, wood rails, and upon it were various jars and baskets of questionable items and substances.

Stephanos laid him gently upon the sleigh and ran a smooth hand along his cheekbone, his expression as bright as the sun. “You have come a long way, mortal. You have a lion’s heart.” Stephanos began to stand slowly, and Anthony found himself slowly drifting away. “Believe me when I say, you _shall_ roar again.”

~#~

Were it not for the soothing scent of lemongrass and petrichor, Anthony may have just assumed he’d passed in his sleep.

He groaned at the dull ache settling in his bones, then taking a moment to register the cloud-like surface he lay upon. It was so snug and warm, he suddenly wondered how he’d managed to awaken in the first place.

He opened his eyes a tad too quickly and ended up wincing at the light streaming through the window. When he’d finally managed to pry them open, the first thing he saw was that same man, who he now realized had strangely referred to him as ‘mortal’ (on many occasions). He now wore a chiton of lilac silk, and his few grey streaks of hair were now highlighted in a light, golden glow.

He began to take note of his rather odd surroundings (though he couldn’t say he was surprised, with what he’d deducted about the man). They were in a single, oddly-shaped home, crowded and cluttered yet not uncomfortably so. The countertop ahead had a large, glass window above it, open just slightly to let in the scent of the rainy earth beyond. To the right of the bed he lay upon were large, sturdy shelves, each one bearing jars and canisters and baskets and bowls of a rather odd sort (however, he did catch sight of what looked to be apples and pears). To his left was a large wardrobe, and between it and the countertops was a single door, seeming more like a thin slab of wood on hinges with a small window upon it. In every corner of the small space there was always _something_ , whether it be food or spices or flowers, as well as other items he assumed Stephanos picked straight from the forest.

He looked down at his body to find it ridden of blood (albeit his clothing was yet to be changed), and his wounds were dressed in an odd, muddy green substance with a plant that vaguely resembled leaves lying atop of it. He found that the gashes bore no pain, so it was safe to assume, he decided, that whatever this man had dressed his wounds with was some type of treatment.

The man paused in his work to turn and face him, grinning. “Good afternoon, mortal. You have been asleep for quite a while.” Anthony’s breath wavered as he let his head fall back onto the pillow, the ache in his neck just now becoming apparent. He was injured- greatly so- but he wasn’t dead.

The stranger gave him a once-over before he hummed to himself, reaching across the counter to pull the window open completely. He whistled as he’d done before, although this time it was considerably more soft yet bright. He grabbed whatever he’d been fixing as well as a bowl and rag before he turned to the bed, elegantly falling into the chair to his right.

“Would you care to tell me your name, mortal?” The man took the rag from the bowl and twisted, capturing Anthony’s eye as he watched the water cascade downward. Stephanos gently plucked a leaf from a wound on his leg, and he soon realized he still hadn’t responded.

“Anthony Stark.” The man hummed in reply, placing the rag at one end of the mushy treatment and swiping in a single slow, pressed motion. The muscle there ached yet it didn’t sting, and his eyes widened when he realized, the gash that had been there before was gone completely- nothing left but pale skin. If he could remember correctly, it had been one of the worst he’d received.

The man sat back and drew the rag into the water, wringing out the surplus treatment into the bowl. He marveled at it, his heart pounding. “How did you do that?” He turned to Stephanos before he could reply. It was as if the final piece had locked into place in his mind. “You-…you’re not human, are you?”

Stephanos gave him a slight smirk before working on the next wound. “As I said, I am the guardian of these woods.” Anthony’s brows furrowed.

“Yes, but what are you?” The man hesitated for a moment before letting out a small sigh, the cheer slowly dissipating from his features. Anthony regretted asking.

“I am a nymph, born from the blood of Uranus.” Stephanos didn’t seem too proud of the title with how his features dropped, wiping the treatment from a gash and moving to the next. “I am said to be a mere meliad, but my abilities as well as my anatomy has proven otherwise.”

Anthony fell limp onto the bed, letting the nymph work. His mind flicked through the numerous stories he’d been raised on. He looked to the other bowl Stephanos had brought, his eyes falling on the sand-hued powder inside. “A nymph born from Uranus…” He repeated, licking his chapped lips. He came to realize he was exceptionally more hydrated than he’d been before. His eyes found Stephanos’. “You’re nearly as old as time.”

The nymph gave him a smile that lingered on the edge of melancholic before moving to treat the wounds on Tony’s arms. They were interrupted, however, when a low, buzzed call emitted from beyond the walls of the small home, and Stephanos let his rag fall into the bowl of water as he quickly stood and rushed to the window.

A moose- most likely the one he’d seen before- brought its head to the window and huffed. Stephanos scrambled around before he found a bowl of loose berries and left it in the sill. He returned to Anthony’s side as the moose ate, its antlers every-so-often knocking against the sides of the windows.

The nymph returned to his work before he spoke. “I have guarded this forest and the life within it for many millennia. I have also been known to spoil its inhabitants- especially the ones that haul my belongings.”

Anthony glanced at the moose as it finished its meal, backing away from the window. He watched small birds land upon its antlers as it went, but the giant paid them no mind. Anthony eyed them as they disappeared while Stephanos continued his work. He watches the nymph’s movements closely, thenglancing to the bowl of powder by his side.

“How have you healed me, nymph?” Anthony questioned. Stephanos winced at the name; it was probably for the best, he thought. One doesn’t simply refer to a deity by their name. “What spells have you used?”

“It is no spell, fair Anthony, only craft.” Stephanos set to work on a gash upon his torso, and it became apparent to both of them how bothersome his remaining clothing was. The nymph reached behind him to his shelves and retrieved a pair of scissors to rid of it. “My powers stem from the earth; the ointment I used to treat your wounds was merely a combination of my given abilities and the natural elements.”

“And what would your given abilities be?” Stephanos shed the torn and cut pieces of his shirt one by one, setting them off to the side with the leaves he’d plucked.

“Of that I am not sure,” Stephanos’ head cocked slightly in question of his own words. “Though I am certain of my limits. I can speak to the earth and Her inhabitants, but I cannot alter Her; those choices are left only to the Gods.” The nymph set to work on the few remaining gashes. “I have learned all knowledge the earth has given me. I can brew potions of health and sickness, I can craft concoctions of hope and despair- and, with the right ingredients, I can be the deciding hand between creating life and taking it.”

Anthony fell silent. The nymph was rather vague, though he guessed that was to be expected, if he was unable to define even his own abilities. It was his last comment, however, that left Tony in awe; could he truly create life on his own? Demolishing life was easy, but bringing it into existence was something philosophers only dreamt of.

Could this nymph take Anthony’s life with only his abilities, then? Is that what Stephanos craved? Was that what he desired, himself? He considered it briefly; he had nothing left to live for, yet he’d been offered a second chance. Perhaps he could find his purpose- that being, if this nymph didn’t plan to kill him, first. Although, it would be foolish to save something only to kill it yourself.

Stephanos finished his work and sat back in his seat. He grabbed the bowl of powder and a large, thickly bristled brush from the shelves. He began to coat Anthony’s torso in it, and his nostrils filled with the sweet scent of vanilla. He let his eyes fall closed, his muscles loosening almost immediately.

“This powder will help your mind and soul recover, rather than your body. I’m not very fond of black magics, so you’re going to have to let the rest of your body heal on its own.” Stephanos finished his work and gathered his things, moving them to the countertop. He kept his back turned as he then spoke: “You lost an alarming amount of blood, fair Anthony. Rest.”

~#~

Anthony awoke to the shrill calls of crickets beyond an open window and the final light of dusk streaming in, the nymph nowhere to be seen. He found that his host had changed his clothing as he was now draped in a chiton of cornflower blue, and the powder had been completely wiped away, leaving only an acheless torso covered in fine silk behind.

He groaned as he slipped from the bed, stumbling to his feet; his stomach growled, but he was sure not to touch any of the foods strewn about the room. He instead made a beeline for the door, only to find it already pried open just slightly.

He stepped out onto soft, warm grass and was immediately greeted by a plethora of floral scents, the world around him nothing but green with vibrant bursts of color. The birds sang more elegantly than he’d ever heard, and the entire forest around him seemed to buzz with constant life.

He took a few hesitant steps forward and turned back only to find that the home he’d stayed in was burrowed into the side of a hill, though he probably should have guessed as much. He decided not to trouble himself with it and kept an open eye as he went, searching for a familiar nymph.

Had Stephanos created this haven himself? He couldn’t be sure if this much activity and beauty could be found naturally in one place. Every which way he turned was another tree stuffed with ripe fruit, another bed of wildflowers, another bush of blossoming berries. Birds and badgers and squirrels and insects all seemed to sing in a chorus, and the rest of the forest listened in turn.

He didn’t have to walk far when he found Stephanos sitting upon a bench beneath a grape arbor, the plants thick enough to cast a dark shade. Still, beams of light hit the familiar nymph, and his skin glowed with the illumination. At his feet sat a doe and her two fawns, and he fed them with content.

Stephanos gave him a soft smile as he approached, his hands running delicately over the doe’s head. “Good evening, fair Anthony. I pray you rested well?” He gestured to the bench across from his own, and he hesitated only for a moment before he sat. He began to rub his hands together anxiously.

“That powder you gave me, it- it helped. I feel much less sore. Thank you.” The nymph only smiled brighter, and Anthony found himself once again enchanted by his beauty. It was hard not to be, in his opinion; he wasn’t quite as lithe as he’d first thought, his muscles toned and defined, but they weren’t horridly bulky, either. His eyes may have been piercing were it not for the way they always seemed to reflect the light, and his body was nearly hairless save for that upon his head. He was naturally elegant and graceful in every move he made- walking, reaching, lounging, they all held the same fluidity.

Stephanos leaned back against the bench, crossing one leg over another. “I must apologize for not using a quicker method. Over the years, I’ve been sorting out my own… _boundaries_.” The nymph’s grin faded only for a moment, his eyes aimed at the ground, empty. He composed himself before he smiled once more at Anthony. “This process won’t take too horridly long. You’ll be healed in just a day or two, you have my word.”

Anthony’s stomach growled again, and Stephanos’ eyes widened. He quite nearly shot from his seat and reached upwards, grabbing a cluster of grapes and tearing it from the stem. “Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten the appetite of mortals!” Stephanos slid into the seat next to Anthony and placed the fruit delicately in his hands. “You _must_ eat, fair Anthony.”

He hesitated even still, eyeing the grapes with caution. He decided against his doubts and delicately plucked two grapes from the cluster and dropped them warily into his mouth. Stephanos’ hand slid onto Anthony’s back, resting comfortably between his shoulder blades, and he melted into his touch. He had nearly forgotten what another person felt like.

Stephanos sat with him until there wasn’t a single grape left on the stem, rubbing circles into his back. His host took the stem and twirled it between his fingers. He stood suddenly, extending a hand. “Come, fair Anthony; tonight, we shall feast on all of nature’s fruits! Mere grapes surely cannot satisfy the likes of a lion.”

A lion? He could vaguely recall Stephanos addressing him as such before but he wasn’t exactly sure why; had he exuded the qualities of such a creature? Coming from a nymph, it was an honorable title, he decided.

He slipped his hand into that of Stephanos, and he allowed himself to be led along. Stephanos turned toward the doe and her fawns and made a soft clicking in his throat, and the animals tagged right along beside them. He was led back into the home in the hill, and Stephanos make quick work of grabbing every type of fruit strewn about. A fawn danced at the nymph’s feet, and he smiled before offering a handful of blueberries.

When Stephanos finished gathering, he slid a large, fruit-filled bowl into Anthony’s hands and gestured to the doorway where the doe and her fawns lingered. “Come, we shall dine at the waterfall.”

“The waterfall?” Tony stepped back into the falling sun and turned to face Stephanos.

The nymph let out a content sigh with a nod. “Quite. It is a haven for all living things in this forest; the water there has been pure since the birth of Gaia. With my magic upon it, it shall remain as such until my spell is lifted.”

He let his host lead them through the lucid forest, and Anthony found that he couldn’t go a minute without his eyes landing on something he quickly admired- the feathers of a bird, the petals of a flower, the sheer size of a tree. Stephanos, noticing this, slowed his steps, and Anthony was grateful to have time to admire nature’s splendor. He ached down to the bone, but his pain seemed to dissipate as he sauntered deeper into paradise.

A flash of a familiar blue caught his eye, and Anthony stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of the butterfly that had led him to Stephanos not too long ago. The nymph gave a questioning eye before he smiled and held out his hand to it. The butterfly settled there, and Stephanos tucked his bowl of fruit under his arm as they continued onward, the insect perfectly content where it resided.

“You can talk to the animals.” There was no question in his words; he’d seen Stephanos call for his moose, sing for his birds, beckon his deer along. He was a nymph- a power-wielding one, at that. It wasn’t all that surprising the more he considered it.

Stephanos gave him a warm smile as the butterfly leapt from his finger. “I am sewn to the very heart of this forest. I see through the animals, and I hear through the trees- it is how I found _you_.” When Anthony looked back at Stephanos, the nymph gazed at his forest as if he had never before experienced its splendor. It was then, he realized, that the forest didn’t just belong to him- it was him.

“I’m ever grateful you did.” Anthony tore his eyes away, instead choosing to gaze at the grandeur around him. “When you found me, I prayed only for death to come quicker, but now that I see all that you have- all that you are,” He shook his head in mild disbelief as he came to terms with his own emotions. “I remember just why life is worth living.”

The sound of a distant, soft crashing became apparent, and he could only assume it was the waterfall Stephanos had spoken of. He looked down at the fruit he carried and soon realized just how famished he truly was. A single cluster of grapes wasn’t quite nearly enough, it seemed.

“I am grateful for having met you.” Stephanos spoke. “Mortals can never quite understand true isolation, for their lives pass far too quickly to even grasp the concept.” Anthony looked at him quizzically. “Even with the company of all the forest has to offer, I…it is always refreshing to see a face that resembles my own, and not that of a deer or bird.”

Anthony nodded, a grin on his face and an obvious pink staining his cheeks. This nymph, he decided, wasn’t all that horrid.

~#~

“What is it you run from, fair Anthony?” He took a bite from his apple, savoring the taste as he searched for an answer. He felt his stomach drop; would Stephanos see him the same way when he was done?

He swallowed the food in his mouth before responding. “To be quite honest,” He turned to gaze at the waterfall across the spring, watching the last light of the sun reflect on the water. “I run from the king’s law.” Stephanos remained silent, but Anthony refused to face him. “A sickness has spread throughout Crete, primarily in the youth; our king has the proper medicine to treat this, but he refuses in his own selfishness.” He swallowed in his throat. “I stole some- a great deal of the medicine from the king’s keeping. I managed to get away from his guard, but not unscathed.” He looked up to find Stephanos gazing at him with sadness of a rather tender sort. “I would have died, had you not saved me.”

His host was silent for a while, his body draped upon the large rock as his chiton clinging to his body like a leech. He found it difficult not to goggle at his beauty.

When Stephanos spoke, his words were timid and carefully considered. “You no longer have a home to return to, I suppose?” Anthony hummed, nodding just slightly. It was so subtle he wondered if Stephanos had even noticed. He turned his body to the waterfall, tucking his legs close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “What if…what if you stayed here, then?”

Anthony looked to him, searching for reassurance, only to find that Stephanos didn’t look completely sure, either. It was somewhat comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one to feel that way.

His eyes found the waterfall as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. “I don’t think there’s anywhere else in the world I’d rather be.”

~#~

“That herb is called dill,” Stephanos vaguely pointed to a plant with the tip of his blade before resuming to cut through the stalk of the pineapple plant. “I retrieved it from the east long ago. Centuries ago, perhaps.” Stephanos handed him the pineapple, and he made quick work of brushing off any dirt before he placed it in a bowl with the others. “It’s a very effective ward against evil- harpies and all that.”

He waved his knife briefly as if to dismiss the thought, and Tony couldn’t suppress a shudder. “Harpies…yes.” He hadn’t even realized that the harpies were more than legend (but, then again, he’d once thought the same of nymphs).

In a cave hidden behind the waterfall was Stephanos’ garden. He’d explained to Anthony that he had once been a wanderer, and would only ever return to his home when his pockets were empty and his luggage was full. On these travels, he had gathered various foods and plants only to add them to his garden, where a single seed would remain plentiful as long as Stephanos’ spells and charms endured.

His eyes wandered around the cave, dancing across each and every open crevice in the ceiling where the sun’s light streamed through. They had been down there for hours, harvesting and feeding any creatures that wandered in, yet he wasn’t quite ready to leave. His stomach had never felt so pleasantly stuffed, and he still was yet see it all.

He scanned the row they resided in, and at first, an odd-looking berry bush caught his eye until he noticed the single gold flower next to it. It held a distinct shape, somewhat like that of a prairie gentian except for the way it seemed to curl inward at the top. The longer he looked, however, the more it almost seemed to (quite practically) glow.

“What’s that?” Stephanos hummed and cut another pineapple before he looked to where Anthony pointed, and he watched the man’s body come to a complete standstill as his eyes fell upon it. “Stephanos?”

The nymph let out a huff of breath before shifting on his knees to the next crop, swallowing in his throat. “It’s called pharmaka. It is the one thing in this garden that can’t grow back, so please, don’t touch it.” Anthony frowned. Stephanos turned to him when he didn’t tear his eyes away, and the nymph sighed before setting down his knife.

“It’s a very powerful plant, Anthony.” He turned to face Stephanos as he spoke. “It- it transforms you into what you were meant to be. It’s powerful enough to alter the Gods themselves.” He bit his lip briefly before he spoke again. “I’m sure you’ve heard the tale of Circe?”

“Goddess of Magic?”

Stephanos hummed in reply. “There had once been a time when pharmaka grew in fields that stretched into the horizon; Circe had been one of the few to use its power.” Stephanos picked up his knife and resumed her work. “She first used it on a mortal named Glaukus, and he was transformed into the patron God of Fishermen. She used it secondly on a nymph she despised named Scylla.”

“Scylla?” Anthony repeated in question. “The monster?”

“Quite. Glaukus had fallen in love with the vain Scylla, and in jealousy, Circe used the pharmaka upon her to transform her into a monster. Scylla then fled to a narrow strait where she would feast on any sailors who dared to enter. It would be centuries later when Circe returned to slay the beast she created.” Stephanos turned to Anthony, his hand clenching around the knife’s handle. “She then used the pharmaka upon herself.” Anthony’s mouth fell slightly ajar, his brows furrowing. “She had fallen in love with the son of Odysseus. Telemachus.”

“Well, what happened to her?” Stephanos turned his body towards Anthony, briefly looking over his shoulder at the pharmaka flower.

“She became a mortal.” He gave Anthony a solemn look. “She lived out the rest of her life before she could finally rest.” Stephanos then stood and brushed the loose dirt from his chiton. “Come, the sun will soon set.”

They made their way through the row, past the forbidden flower as they went. He wasn’t going to ask what had happened to the rest of it, and he most certainly wasn’t going to ask about the flowerless pharmaka plant to its left.

~#~

“She’s harmless, I promise you.” Anthony furrowed his brows, letting out a quivered breath as he gazed at the large bear and her cubs. Stephanos stood to his side, holding out a bowl of various berries, many of which he couldn’t identify. “Go on. She’s in the mood for berries, this morning.”

“How do you know that?” The mother took a step closer and made a low noise in her throat, whipping her head up swiftly at the bowl he carried. Anthony licked his chapped lips. He let out a quiet ‘oh’ and shifted his weight anxiously to the other foot. It didn’t take a nymph to spot a hungry bear. “So, do I just…?”

“Approach her slowly- she’s brought her cubs and you’ve only just met.” Stephanos leaned in, his eyes on the bear as well. “Maintain a tranquil sort of eye contact, and hold the bowl from beneath when you offer it.”

“Can’t you just tell her to trust me?”

“If I told you to trust a harpie I’d known for a year, would you do it?”

“Knowing harpies, no, I guess.”

“Humanity has taken countless family members from her. She’s hesitant to trust any, even with myself next to you. However,” Stephanos placed his hand on the small of Anthony’s back, offering comfort. “Bears are not as vicious as they seem. In the years I have known this one, I have learned that she is more forgiving than not.”

Anthony melted back into the touch, drawing in a long breath to calm his nerves. The nymph placed his other hand delicately on his forearm, and he realized just how smooth his hands were, unblemished, even after centuries, if not many millennia after constant work of picking and nurturing and crafting.

He hesitantly took his first step forward, and Stephanos’ hands dropped so subtly from his skin his barely noticed. He swallowed in his throat as he carefully extended the bowl. The mother took notice, as did one of her cubs.

“He’s harmless, my dear,” It took him a second to register that Stephanos was talking to the bear. “He brings no weapons, only food, and in high hopes of gaining your trust.” The bear finally met his eye, and Anthony attempted to extend the bowl even further in his arms.

He grew close enough that the bowl was right in front of the mother’s nose. He stopped, and the bear took a step closer. He forced himself to stay still as she inspected what was being offered before clamping her jaws down on the side of the bowl. Anthony released it as she set it on the ground for her cubs, making a low noise in her throat that sounded too kind to be a growl.

“She thanks you, fair Anthony.” He turned to find Stephanos giving him a warm smile, and he glanced one last time before he turned away to stand by the others’ side. “She will return tomorrow, and she will expect another meal if you are intent on befriending her and her cubs.”

Anthony smiled in return, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he knew it was genuine.

~#~

“What’s this?” Anthony took the bowl of herbs from the shelf and cradled it in his hands. Stephanos only had to glance at it briefly, his head propped on a fist as his body lay stretched out on his side. In that position, with his (most definitely flamboyant) chiton draped so gracefully around him on the bed, he certainly _looked_ like a deity. Though, in the week he’d been there, he’d found that Stephanos had some humane habits of his own.

For one, there was nothing on his body that signified that he was a deity at all; no permanently stained skin, no scales, no glowing auras. Perhaps the only way he’d known upon first sight that Stephanos was different was his oddly staggering beauty and fair skin. Anthony also noticed that his chitons were woven from fine, expensive wool, and that he made an effort to keep his hair constantly tidy, and that all of his herbs, foods and spices were sorted based on their classifications. For example, he knew what he currently held was an herb, as it was (rather sloppily) placed next to the tarragon and savory.

“That would be thyme. It represents courage and strength, and it goes well in mixtures pertaining to such.” Anthony set it back on the shelf and gazed up to those he couldn’t quite reach. There, he found aged books, some seemingly more new than others. One caught his eye, however; it was a thin book yet bound in thick leather, held together by golden string. It was tucked away, however, so he decided not to question its presence.

“Do all of these plants have meaning?” Stephanos hummed, shifting slightly in his spot.

“It is not just plants, fair Anthony. Animals, colors, shapes, the elements- they all have meaning.” Stephanos took his free hand and pointed to a book on the shelf. “Grab the book bound in walnut brown, with crimson binding. Use the stool.”

Anthony turned to Stephanos with an annoyed expression only to find the nymph smirking mischievous manner, and he scoffed before he grabbed the stool in exasperation. He stood upon it and quickly snagged the book, his eyes briefly darting to the other, thinner book bound in gold before his feet touched the smooth flooring.

“Go on, sit.” Stephanos gestured to the bed, and Anthony let out a sigh before he complied and slid up to rest his back on the headboard. Without taking the book from his lap, Stephanos dusted off and opened the cover, and Anthony was greeted by a an introduction he could barely read.

“This writing is ancient.” He stated, and watched as Stephanos quirked a brow. “It’s fading, the pages threaten to slip from the binding and some of these words- they’re too old to know in this age.”

“You have the intelligence of the dolphin,” It was a strange way to put it, he thought. “I believe you’ll catch on quickly.”

“What’s this about?” He began to flip cautiously through the pages. He wasn’t sure how Stephanos would react if he tore his ancient scriptures.

“That is for you to solve, fair Anthony.” He sighed in reply and settled on a page. He recognized many of the words written there; _boar, buffalo, bull’s horns, butterfly_ -

“This book-” He read along the description for butterfly, piecing together what he could and making sense of it. “-it’s a book of symbolism.”

“That it is.” Stephanos raised his eye, and Anthony turned to meet it. “When I first brought you here, I hadn’t seen a single mortal in well over a century. I had to adapt in my speaking to better match yours.” Stephanos’ hand traced the edge of the book with his fingertips as if it would shatter if he pressed any harder. “The more you read from this, the more fluently it will become, and the knowledge you gain will help you better understand the world in which we reside.”

Anthony began to flip curiously through the pages until he was faced with the word _lion_. “Pride, nobility, cunning, courage…” He read aloud, his brows furrowing. He turned to face Stephanos. “You truly see these qualities in me?”

“I see a man who escaped the hands of Hades himself.” Stephanos looked at him solemnly, and Anthony found unable to look away. He had never realized just how captivating his eyes were. “Even as death was soon to settle within you, you still found strength to succumb to my calling.”

Anthony fell silent for a moment before he replied: “When I saw the butterfly, I knew- I knew what it was trying to tell me. Now that I recall, I’m not sure anyone other man would have understood.” Stephanos’ lips quirked into a grin. “I thought, perhaps, if I was to die, let that be my final mission, if only to know my death would not have been utterly in vain.”

Stephanos seemed to ponder for a long moment, yet did not hesitate with his words. “You are far less human than you believe, fair Anthony.” He furrowed his brows, yet couldn’t help but turn away as his cheeks flushed. Stephanos chuckled. “Though your body may be bound to the earth, your soul desires more.”

Anthony thought of the pharmaka in the garden. No, he decided; even if he were to use it, his existence meant so little that it probably wouldn’t even have an affect on him. Stephanos could preach all he wanted, but only he could know his own worth.

~#~

Stephanos didn’t sleep. He didn’t need to, just as he didn’t need nutrients; those were all just luxuries he instead spent on the mortal. Anthony, however, was in desperate need of it, and that fact dawned on him more and more with each passing day.

He had spent a month with Stephanos, and he still couldn’t shake away the terrors that plagued him in his slumber. He didn’t tell his host- Stephanos always spent the nights outside, caring for the wildlife- and although his better half reminded him that, yes, Stephanos could most likely help, he didn’t want to seem more dependant on him than he already was. Stephanos already provided a haven, an education, a path to recovery. He couldn’t possibly ask for more.

One night had been particularly tormenting. He had seen nothing but the limp bodies of children taken by diseases, had seen nothing but watch them decay in open graves. He watched them rise as lonesome souls and shame him ceaselessly. _You could have saved all of us. You could have done more_.

This night was different, however, for when he awoke, he found Stephanos sitting on the edge of the bed, a warm hand placed delicately over his own. He loosened its deadly grip on the pillow and let it relax into Stephanos’, and he closed his eye with a heavy sigh. He bit his lip, and when he felt tears gathering at his eyes, he only shut them harder.

“You should not have to suffer, fair Anthony.” Stephanos moved his hand to rub small circles into his back. He tried to still his body, yet it still quivered beneath the sweat-soaked sheets. He opened his eyes, focusing more on the way the moonlight illuminated the nymph’s grey streaks of hair than his words. “I want nothing more for you than happiness, a life ridden of worry and scars.”

“Please-” He choked, his eyes meeting those of Stephanos. The nymph cupped his cheeks with his hands, leaning down just slightly. Anthony relaxed into them as he felt his eyes grow damp. “Please, make it stop. I can’t- I did my best, I promise-”

“Just sleep, my fair Anthony.” Stephanos placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he let out a shaking breath. No one had ever handled him so gently, with such genuine care. He’d never felt more loved than he did in that moment. “Sleep, and I promise, I shall send word to Morpheus. He will grant you peace at last.”

For the remainder of that night, and for every night onward, he dreamt no more of the past.

~#~

One downside to being offered a home was that they still had to do their laundry at the waterfall, which sometimes proved difficult with multiple animals of multiple species demanding food and/or attention from not only Stephanos, but Anthony himself, as well.

Still, he scrubbed the dirt from their chitons, Stephanos working just as diligently beside him. A content silence had fallen between them every since they’d arrived; with the ambience of the forest around them, the sound of the birds’ songs and the swaying of the trees spoke words of their own. He found it selfish to disturb their melody.

The buck that had previously been digging his nose into the crook of Anthony’s arm suddenly shot up, nearly ramming him with his new antlers before bounding away. He looked to Stephanos to find the nymph frozen in place, the chiton in his hand flowing softly in the clear water.

“What’s wrong?” Stephanos didn’t reply, setting the soaked chiton in the basket between them atop of the others that had already been cleaned. He stood slowly, and Anthony proceeded to look beyond the trees, bewildered. He watched as Stephanos’ ears perked, his eyes trained on one certain spot among the distant underbrush.

Anthony found himself so lost in conclusions, he nearly fell back into the water when the nymph suddenly boasted: “ _Show yourself!_ ” It seemed to echo throughout the entirety of the forest, ruffling the trees and scaring away any animals that remained. It was deep, and startling, and it shook him to his very core. It most certainly wasn’t the voice of a mortal.

Just a moment later, a hesitant figure popped his head out from behind a thick tree; he was young, no older than ten years of age, and he too seemed shaken by the nymph’s cry. Anthony slowly stood, his eyes fixed on their visitor.

Stephanos, now visibly relaxing, gave an expression of guilt. “I apologize for my tone, little one. Come near.” Still, the boy hesitated, but eventually slipped from behind the tree and slowly made his way through the underbrush.

He was thin and scrawny, and he had very visible burns down his arms. It was strange, though, as they seemed to circle, as if something had been restraining him. He wore torn, dirty chitons, perhaps once pristine, ruby silk. A crown of roses rested upon his head, a stunning contrast to the rest of his clothing.

When the boy was mere meters away, Stephanos leaned down slightly, extending a hand. “Give me your hand, little nymph. I will not hurt you.”

“Nymph?” Anthony repeated, and Stephanos hummed. The young boy slid his hand into the elder’s.

“Of course. He is no god- not with this figure- and no other could withstand the binds of Hades.” Stephanos’ free hand floated across the child’s burns yet it didn’t touch his skin, his brows creased in worry. The nymph met the eyes of the other. “What is your name, little one?”

The young boy swallowed in his throat before he answered with a somewhat broken voice, “Petros, of the Leimoniads.” Stephanos gave him a smile, and the boy continued. “Zeus has banished me from Olympus to live among the mortals, and one of the Meliads told me to find you.”

“What could a child do that deserves banishment?” Anthony questioned, turning to Stephanos for an answer. What he received was a look of sudden sorrow.

Stephanos held the boy gently by his elbows, his eyes still scanning the wounds. The young nymph took it upon himself to reply. “I was not born a girl.”

Day turned to dusk, and Anthony had been instructed to resume his chores of washing, harvesting and nurturing while Stephanos treated the young nymph inside their home. He later found the nymph sitting upon one of his many swings, this one overlooking the edge of a small cliff with mile upon mile of forest below.

He sat silently on the ground beside him, the silent creaking of the swing filling the emptiness between them. He looked to Stephanos to find him gazing out at the last light of day with a distant look in his eye, one hand wrapped tightly around his other wrist upon his lap.

“Will he be alright?” Anthony asked, but the nymph didn’t move. “Petros?”

Stephanos lowered his gaze, his eyes falling to the ground before closing altogether. He seemed to consider his words before he asked, “Can I tell you something, my fair Anthony?”

He blinked before he nodded, shifting closer to the swing. Stephanos let out a long breath before he began. “After my birth, it was as if life had been created simply for me to enjoy it- my sisters and I.” He added, opening his eyes. There, he saw sadness. “I would waste the days away without a care, playing and gossiping and fawning over the Titans.

“When Zeus was born, however, and the war had been won between he and Kronos…Zeus ascended to his throne, took a single glance at me and decided I was an abomination.” Stephanos turned to face him, tears gathering in his eyes. Anthony’s heart dropped. “No other nymphs were born as boys, and the Olympians wanted only the most beautiful women to play and toy with.” The nymph turned away sharply, his eyes finding the horizon. “My sisters were too wary to face the wrath of Zeus, as were the remaining Titans that favored me, all except-” Stephanos inhaled sharply as silent tears began to slowly fall from his eyes. “Prometheus.”

Anthony moved to his knees and slid closer as to be directly to the nymph’s side. He placed a hand on the other’s thigh, comforting. Stephanos placed his own hand above it and squeezed gently.

“Prometheus…” His voice was beginning to shake, yet his eyes were still transfixed beyond the distant forest. “I had loved him, once. I can never be sure if he had ever loved me back. And even if his attempts to keep me on Mount Olympus were futile, I am still forever grateful.” Stephanos sniffed, letting his eyes fall closed. He looked to be recalling something, but Anthony refused to comment on it. “He later sacrificed himself for the mortals and brought back the fire Zeus had stolen from them. He now hangs on Mount- Mount Olympus, and he-”

Stephanos didn’t finish, nor did he need to. Anthony had already heard the tale. While he once had thought it was just a fable like many others, he now knew it to be most certainly true. All that mattered now, though, was that Stephanos was alright.

His host was silent for a good while before he spoke again. “His mother had known from the moment he was born that Petros wouldn’t be a god, and from his sex, he was already inferior.” Anthony rested his head gently on the other’s thigh, gazing beyond the cliffside. “He tells me that she had hidden him for as long as he was able, but alas…Zeus had summoned the binds strong enough to hold the Titans and had used them against Petros until finally deciding to banish him to the same fate as I.”

“Are nymphs truly so much of a threat?”

“The nymphs have never compared to Titans, nor the Gods, for that matter.” Stephen tightened his jaw. “Zeus acts only out of cruelty. Were it not for his hatred for humanity, he never would have stolen the fire.”

“Do not speak in such a way! Does he not listen to the words of mortals?” Anthony hissed, but Stephen only gave a weak chuckle. He moved his spare hand to wipe away his tears.

“He has not cared to hear me speak for millennia. No Gods have.” Stephanos turned to face him, his hand wrapping tighter around his own. He found himself mindlessly leaning closer to the nymph. “We are alone here, my fair Anthony.”

For the first time, he decided, perhaps they could be content with loneliness, so long as they were together.

~#~

Within the span of a week, Petros had grown six inches. As Stephanos explained, nymphs grew at different pacings depending on their kindred, and eyes a leimoniad, Petros was among one to have the fastest growths of all. Stephanos had said he grew as quick as the grass of the meadows he bore in his name. As a Meliad, Stephanos added, he himself hadn’t reached his full form for half a century. At first, he had thought it a mere joke, but now that he saw it unwind before his eyes, he began to understand the race of nymphs more clearly.

Petros was thin yet his limbs showed signs of growth in strength, and his adolescence began to dissipate as his jaw sharpened and the fat of his youth whittled away. Even with how quickly he grew, Stephanos told him he would be rather small and lanky for a male, even with the muscle he so naturally gained.

Anthony soon found that, even after being sheltered all his life, he was still so very bright, and kind, as well. He knew every fruit, every herb, every animal. He harvested crops with ease, and he was quick to understand the simple spells and concoctions Stephanos demonstrated to him. He spoke fluently to the creatures of the wood, and although he was rather shy, Petros would sometimes seek Anthony for company, even if it meant watching the sun fall in a comfortable silence.

It was one night, when Petros had decided to sleep, that Anthony found himself restless in the bed beside him. He dressed himself in his chiton and stepped out into the cool night. He whistled, and a bird above flew to his presented hand. “Would you mind leading me to Stephanos?”

The creature chirped and glided to the ground, making swift hops along as Anthony followed a small distance behind. The light of a full moon bled through the trees, illuminating the path. Even still, the fireflies were kind enough to settle along the trail, carving a path of their own.

It wasn’t too difficult to locate Stephanos, he was soon to find, as he could hear his voice booming through the wood from a distance away. He still didn’t quite understand it; did all nymphs have the ability to amplify their voice in such a way? What was its purpose, and why did it startle every creature around him, including Anthony himself?

As he grew closer, he could comprehend what was being said, and he soon realized that Stephanos wasn’t alone. He stopped in his tracks and listened.

Stephanos spoke boldly, his voice low. “He is no guest. He shall remain here until death, or to when he so desires to leave on his own.”

“And if he does desire to leave?” The voice that answered was deeper even still, and it shook him to his very core, even from the extended distance. He placed a hand over his chest and swallowed in his throat. “Whatever will you do with yourself? You’ve become infatuated with a mortal. Pathetic, really.”

“And what of the others?” Stephanos replied, his voice doused in vain. “What of yourself, _Hermes, Messenger of the Gods_?” Anthony furrowed his brow. Had Stephanos lied? He’d told Anthony no one on Olympus listened to what they had to say… “You battle amongst yourselves over which mortals you favor. Do you not remember your precious Odysseus?”

“You watch your tongue you lowly nymph, lest I cut it out for you.” Anthony felt his blood boil, but refrained from seeking out Stephanos. If he were to face a god- one that seemed to have a disliking for him, nonetheless- he was sure to die. “You tread in dangerous waters, nymph. We know of the herb in your little garden.”

“And there it shall remain.”

“Do I have your word, nymph?” There was a pause from Stephanos.

“I would never trust a God like you with my word. Now, leave this forest before I build a barrier around it.”

“You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“I’ve lost all interest in the business of the Olympians and their toys. Whatever you have to say means nothing to me. If losing all sense of a world beyond my wood means ridding myself of your presence, I wouldn’t hesitate to spend the rest of my days alone!”

The forest suddenly fell silent, and he felt the thickness that had grown in the air begin to dissipate. The heaviness that had settled on his chest remained, however, and he looked down to find the bird eyeing him curiously. He sighed, dropping slowly to his knees and extending his hand. The bird accepted his offer, and he fell into his own thoughts as he stroked its feathers.

“I must apologize.” He snapped his head upwards to find Stephanos there, his hands clasped in front of him as he bore a sorrowful expression. If it weren’t too dark to get a clear reading, he would have seen that Stephanos’ apology was genuine. “That was not a conversation you should have heard.”

“It’s my fault, I-” He rose quickly to his feet and the bird fluttered away. He rubbed his wrist as he took a hesitant step forward. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came looking for you. I should have turned back when I’d heard you were with someone else.”

“You did nothing wrong, my fair Anthony.” Stephanos stepped close enough to place his hands on Anthony’s biceps, sliding lower to loosely hold his wrists. He felt the need to melt into it; his hands were like satin. “I am terribly sorry for speaking of you in such a manner.”

“Was it the God Hermes you spoke to?” Stephanos gave him a distanced look before nodding subtly. Anthony swallowed in his throat. “You said no one was listening.”

“And that word remains true. However, Hermes has paid a visit, and he could sense a mortal within my keeping. I would rather be alive to protect Petros and yourself than lie and be killed by an Olympian.”

“I thought nymphs were immortal?” Stephanos paused before giving a small, amused huff. He shook his head to himself before letting go of Anthony’s wrists, turning them around with a hand on the small of his back as he lead them home.

“We are not quite like the Gods. While we may live for all eternity, we bleed just as mortals do…” Stephanos thought quietly to himself for a brief moment. “I may have lived a thousand lives, but I am no less prone to a blade than you. Diseases are unattainable, however.”

Anthony replayed what he had overheard once more in his head, and his mind began to draw one conclusion to another before he stopped in his tracks. Stephanos stopped with him, turning to face him with a worrisome expression. “Anthony?”

He suddenly thought of the pharmaka, but quickly tossed the thought away.

“I…I’m afraid, Stephanos.” He felt tears beginning to gather in his eyes. “I’m afraid to die.” Stephanos was rendered speechless as he faced Anthony helplessly. “I’m afraid you’ll live on, you’ll forget about me…”

A moment passed in which Anthony shed a single tear, but not a second later, Stephanos was kissing him.

His lips were as soft as rose petals and his heartbeat hammered like crashing waves. He felt as if he were drinking Stephanos, his very being, becoming one with just light contact, and he found that he couldn’t stop kissing the nymph even if he tried. He felt that, if he pulled away, Stephanos would be gone, nothing but imagery. With the way Stephanos responded, he seemed to feel the same.

His hands found his host’s hips, and he tilted his head further to deepen their kiss with a sigh through his nose. He could feel an ancient weight being lifted, or perhaps only concealed within him, but it didn’t matter. All he knew was that he needed to be closer, something he’d never realized he needed until then.

When they pulled away, it was slow and cautious, as if they both felt the other would suddenly burst in their arms. He gazed up at Stephanos only to find an entire universe in his eyes, a roaring, incandescent flame of pure green. If he would have nothing else, he would spend an entire lifetime gazing into them.

Stephanos spoke, hesitant. “Never in a million lifetimes could I forget about you, my fair Anthony.” He huffed with humor and smiled, his hand reaching up to cup the nymph’s cheek. He, in turn, leaned into it, seemingly starved of contact. He wouldn’t blame him, having known the nymph had been alone for many millennia.

Their time had a limit, but Anthony was certain they would make the most of it.

~#~

“Your wounds are nearly gone. Those binds must have made a serious wound if even Stephanos’ spells couldn’t heal them quickly.” Petros extended his arms, gazing down at what remained. Anthony was content; the wounds didn’t affect his growth, it seemed. He was an ‘adult’, now, but he couldn’t see Petros as any more than a boy. He barely looked a day over seventeen.

“I have never seen any nymphs as powerful as Stephanos.” Peter admitted, reclining on the bench. He reached behind and above to pluck a grape from its stem and pop it into his mouth. “There’s no question as to why the Gods send Hermes to visit-” Petros smirked. “They’re worried of his abilities.”

“Are nymphs not taught to use the power they are given?” Petros shook his head, swallowing as his eyes landed on the ground.

“All we nymphs are good for to the Gods are our bodies. They couldn’t care less about what kind of power we wield. Most nymphs are powerless, anyway- that, or they’re just dull.” Petros’ smile faded as he watched a familiar mother doe and her offspring approach. They were growing larger and stronger by the day. “They wouldn’t have us any other way.”

Anthony placed a comforting hand on Petros’ shoulder, and in turn, the nymph slid closer. He was in no way bashful when he rested his head on Anthony’s shoulder. “The Gods have no more right to define us than we have to define them. I reckon that, one day, you’ll grow as strong as Stephanos- perhaps even more so. I know he wouldn’t be upset if you did. He’d be proud, I bet.”

“Do you mean it?” Petros spoke practically in a whisper, and Anthony closed his eyes with a light smile. He relished in the gentle breeze that blew by, and gave a content sigh as he felt the doe lay herself by his feet.

“Every last word.”

~#~

“If you mean to harvest, you must be willing to dirty your hands.” Stephanos sliced the pineapple from its plant and placed it in the large bowl Anthony held before handing the young nymph his blade. “Your hands are delicate, but I can assure you, you will grow used to it. And fret not- I have a remedy for rough skin.”

Petros bit his lip before he looked at the pineapple plant in front of him, shifting slightly on his knees before bending forward. “Where do I…?”

“The stalk, where the fruit meets its host.” Petros set to work, and Stephanos turned to Anthony. The nymph silently began to card his hand through Anthony’s hair as he sported a fond smile. He melted into the touch. “We’ll have to cut it again, soon.”

Anthony grinned, sliding closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Petros place the pineapple in the bowl. He decided to focus on Stephanos, however, running a tentative hand down the skin of the nymph’s built yet smooth arm. He admired the taut muscle there, and briefly wondered how luxurious ut would look with the rest of his body bare.

“Is that- pharmaka?” Stephanos suddenly whipped his head around, and Anthony looked past him to see Petros’ body turned towards the forbidden flower.

Stephanos’ words were sharp when he spoke. “Do not touch it, Petros. The Gods have already frowned upon me for having it here in the first place.”

“You know what pharmaka is, Petros?” Anthony questioned. He’d believed the young nymph, even as quickly as he’d grown, was still rather new to the world. He’d gotten the impression that there hadn’t been any pharmaka for centuries; was it grown on Mount Olympus?

“I’ve heard stories, murmurs of the other nymphs…I didn’t know there was a single flower of its kind left in the whole world.” Petros bit his lip briefly before he turned away, shifting over to the next pineapple plant. Anthony saw Stephanos visibly relax, his shoulders dropping and a small sigh emitting from his lips. “Why have the Gods not yet taken it from you?”

Stephanos considered his answer carefully before he replied with a slight scowl. “It remains in this garden, for even the Gods themselves fear its power.”

~#~

Anthony began to cough. He continued to cough for a week, and for the next week after. This wouldn’t have been concerning if not for one problem-

None of Stephanos’ concoctions were working.

He lay limp on the bed after his latest coughing fit, Petros by his side, their hands intertwined in worry. Stephanos scrambled about his counter and his shelves, throwing together anything he could find, flipping through one book after the other in search of answers.

Petros watched on helplessly until, finally, he couldn’t hold his tongue. “What’s happening to him, Stephanos? Why aren’t your spells working?!”

Stephanos, having been chopping up herbs, set down his blade with an agitated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Anthony would have given him comforting words in retaliation had his throat not been as dry as Egyptian sands. The nymph turned to face the bed, searching for answers as his eyes raked along Anthony’s body. He felt Petros squeeze his hand tighter.

“This is no mortal sickness.” Stephanos’ hands clenched, and Anthony was worried the man’s nails may just pierce his own skin. “This is the doing of Hygieia.”

Petros stilled, his hand tightening even still around Anthony’s as he gaped at Stephanos. Anthony saw tears gather in his eyes, so he only closed his eyes with a grimace. He absolutely despised the times where Petros cried; he should never have had to in the first place. He didn’t deserve sadness for Anthony’s suffering.

“There- there’s got to be something you could do-” Petros’ eyes frantically scanned the room, but Stephanos’ eyes only found the floor. “Speak to Hermes, compromise with the Gods! They could end this!”

Anthony opened his eyes to find Stephanos wiping away the wetness that gathered at his eyes, his head downcast. It didn’t take long to understand what was happening.

“They’re punishing you.” Stephanos didn’t reply, and Petros looked to him bewildered for answers. “You disrespected a God- an Olympian.”

“I don’t understand,” Petros wept, running a hand through Anthony’s sweat-soaked hair. He didn’t seem to mind, then. “Why would they chase after Anthony, but not us?”

Stephanos fell silent but moved to sit on the opposite edge of the bed, sliding Anthony’s right hand into his own. He looked up at the nymph, feeling his chest grow tight. He didn’t want to die like this.

“They are delivering to us the only thing worse than death-” Stephanos leaned down and pressed a kiss to Anthony’s forehead, carding his hand through his lover’s hair. “The death of the one we love most.”

Petros choked on a sob, and Anthony gave his hand a comforting squeeze, feeling another coughing fit rapidly approaching. The young nymph leaned frantically closer to Stephanos. “Is there truly nothing that can be done?”

Thunder rolled in the distance, and he began to cough once more. Stephanos placed a gentle hand on Anthony’s chest, resting there, and he saw reached up with a weak hand to cup the nymph’s tear-stained cheek. Stephanos bit his lip briefly in thought, but Petros spoke before he could.

“The pharmaka,” Anthony turned his head to Petros with a blank expression before it faded into that of shock. “We could use the pharmaka.”

“Don’t even speak of it, Petros!” Stephanos stood in irritation, beginning to pace from the shelves to the counter. Anthony could tell that he wanted to use it desperately as well, with his clenched hands and furrowed brow. In some other timeline, he would have questioned why Stephanos refrained from using it, but he knew well how much it could cost them. “It is too great of a risk. It will remain in the garden.”

“What other choice do we have?!” Petros stood, his voice rising. Anthony had never heard him use such a tone since he’d arrived. “The Gods are killing him, we can’t just let it happen!”

“The pharmaka _stays in the garden_!”

“Why must it?!”

“Because I know firsthand what happens when you don’t leave it where it lies!” Stephanos’ tone lingered on the edge of his deity voice, but even still, the entire room seemed to rattle. Petros was taken aback, placing a hand over his chest and fiddling nervously with his chiton. Anthony’s body went stiff, and Stephanos looked as if he were to sob in guilt.

Stephanos silently dropped into his previous spot, as did Petros (though now hesitant to do so). Anthony’s brows furrowed in worry as he looked up at the nymph, his eyes now stained red around the edges with an onslaught of tears soon to follow. The air grew thicker, and whether from the brewing storm beyond or the sudden awkwardness, Anthony couldn’t tell.

Stephanos swallowed in his throat before he spoke. “Centuries ago…when I was but a wanderer…” The spaces between his clusters of words spoke volumes, Anthony concluded. This wasn’t something Stephanos was willing to say- and something Anthony wasn’t sure he was willing to hear. “I fell in love with a woman of Athens. A mortal.”

Anthony’s chest tightened. He felt dull jealousy for a woman who was long past, and he hadn’t even courted Stephanos until three weeks prior.

“When I had found her, she’d been raped, abused, on the cusp of death. I healed her, but when I moved to continue my travels, she begged me to stay…and so I returned here with her by my side. We fell in love, and over time, I grew to cherish mortals more than I ever could the Gods.

“We soon realized that what we shared couldn’t possibly last, and so I went to the Goddess Circe in hopes that she could turn my beloved into a deity, so that we may have spent eternity together…Circe instead gave me two seeds of the herb known as pharmaka- one for her, and if I wished, one for myself, as well. She told me my beloved would become a nymph, as she had always meant to be, but instead…” Stephanos swallowed again. “She became a Goddess herself.”

“Who is she?” Petros questioned, his hands digging into the bedding as he leaned closer. “Does she reign on Olympus?”

Stephanos, briefly removing his hands from Anthony to wipe the wetness from his eyes, only continued. “It was there on Olympus where she spent most of her days among the other Gods, and used all of her spare time to visit me. But as days and years went by, she…I don’t know, she just-” Stephanos bit his lip, shaking his head at the thought as tears only continued to shed. “Her power consumed her. She wanted nothing more than to rid the world of hate, but used nothing but hate to achieve her goal. She murdered, and murdered, and did nothing but relish in the ashes of the cities she burned.”

Anthony reached with a weak, quivering hand, placing it upon Stephanos’ thigh and swiping his thumb comfortingly over his chiton. Stephanos placed his own palm over it and squeezed gently. He turned his head to Petros to find the boy wringing his hands nervously in his lap, words dancing along his tongue yet never escaping.

“Before I could help her- before I could try- she tried to take Zeus’ throne on Olympus and failed. Zeus…” Stephanos swallowed, his shoulders hunching as his eyes fell closed. He was trying so profoundly to hold his tears he looked to be practically choking on them. “He first burned every field of pharmaka upon the earth, and then banished my beloved to the Underworld, where she has remained bound by chain among the fallen Titans…ever since.”

Stephanos let out a quivered breath in conclusion, running his hand along Anthony’s. Petros took Anthony’s other hand as he was thrown into another coughing fit. The nymphs eyed him with worry and sorrow as his head fell back upon the pillow. He groaned, the aching that ran to his very core only worsening as the seconds ticked by.

When Petros spoke, he was timid and cautious, his eyes aimed at the bedding. “I couldn’t bear to live with myself knowing we let Anthony die when he could have been saved.” Anthony watched as Stephanos’ jaw clenched, his eyes tightening shut. “It doesn’t matter what he’ll become. Anything is better than letting him die at the hands of the Gods.”

Beyond the window, it began to rain.

~#~

ONE YEAR LATER

“I’ll have returned by dusk. Go and give the bears some berries, and for the last time, do not give them three entire bowls!” Stephanos closed the door behind him as Petros laughed by the counter. He had already set foot on a familiar path when the young nymph called to him from the window.

“Wait! What if they’re good bears?!”

“They’re all good bears, but they need to limit their food consumption! It’s the beginning of fall!” Stephanos huffed as he made his way down the path, Petros’ boisterous laughter still very much audible even from a short distance. He smiled to himself; he found that, even if Petros did give a small family of bears three entire bowls of berries, he wouldn’t really mind. There was an entire garden at their disposal.

As he grew closer to the waterfall, he sped up his steps, lifting the front of his long chiton just slightly off the ground as he went. His heart began to pound even after all that time.

Anthony, in all his glory, basked within the shallow water beneath the light of the sun.

Stephanos quickly approached, and Anthony smirked mischievously as he quickly shed his chiton and waded into the water. Anthony grasped his wrist gently and pulled him close, pressing a brief kiss to the other’s lips.

“And how is the water this afternoon, my little hydriad?” Anthony flushed but refused to turn away, moving to straighten his back as he sat upon his knees. Smooth rock pressed heavily into his knees, but he couldn’t find himself to care in that moment.

“Rather nice for the beginning of fall, actually. Perhaps, come winter, I can figure out a spell to keep it from freezing over for the forest.” Anthony now held both of Stephanos’ hands in his own and led him into deeper water until neither of them touched solid ground. He slid his arm around the taller nymph’s waist and let his body float among the water. “Every day, I find it harder still to leave it. I’m not sure how I will ever survive the season.”

“We can hollow out more of the hill,” Stephanos suggested, and Anthony smirked as his eyes fell closed. Stephanos ran a gentle hand through the other’s drenched locks. “Perhaps get you your own little indoor pond. I’m sure I have a few tricks somewhere to keep a steady temperature- since I know you don’t like your water too warm, either.”

Anthony hummed in agreement, pushing into Stephanos’ touch upon his head. “Tedious things, really…”

“You’re becoming exceedingly skilled at magics rather quickly, my dear. I’m impressed.” Anthony opened his eyes and lifted a hand above the water, frowning at his pruned hands. “I assume you’re ready to head back home?”

“Quite. I’m in the mood for a bit of a stroll- care to join me?” Stephanos suddenly thought of the book on his shelf- thin, aged, bound in gold- and decided, that evening would be as good as any.

“I must apologize, my little lion. I’m rather in the mood for fish this evening. Why don’t you take Petros with you, and I shall have dinner prepared when you return?” Anthony didn’t seem to disappointed, rather enticed by the idea of cooked fish, and took a gentle hold of Stephanos’ wrists once more to pull him towards the bank.

“Perhaps you could add some parsley?” Anthony inquired. Stephanos’ feet touched rock, and he began to wade above the water towards the shore. “Or some basil, or dill?” The hydriad suddenly stopped, turning to face him with a grin. “Or perhaps all three?”

“You’re an odd one, my fair Anthony.” Stephanos used a quick spell to dry them and handed his lover his discarded chiton before working on his own. “Most hydriads prefer their fish raw, especially fresh. As in, alive fresh.”

“I practically want to gag at the thought of it.” Stephanos chuckled, draping his chiton over his body and grabbing his discarded belt. When they had both finished, he slid his hand into Anthony’s, and they started down the familiar path. Somewhere along the way, Stephanos’ moose began to trail along.

Petros, as they returned home, was already slipping out of the house. The young nymph ran to them, a large bowl tucked under his arm. “Petros, why don’t you and your father go on a stroll while I prepare dinner? Perhaps you could pick some fruits and berries along the way?”

“Oh, yes, certainly!” He grabbed Anthony’s wrist in excitement and pulled him along into the woods, and Stephanos gave an amused huff. “I’ll have him back by sundown, I promise!”

“I pray it so!” Stephanos called back, giving them one last glance before turning and petting his moose. The creature, even taller than him, gave a huff of his own as he leaned into the touch. “The time has come, old friend…” The words, though spoken, were more for himself than anyone else. He found comfort in them, though as he made his way back towards the house, doubt began to pool in his chest.

He made his way through the door and quickly opened the window above the counter, letting his moose at least peek in. His antlers had grown rather quickly that season, and rather sturdily, as well. Stephanos wasn’t sure he’d ever seen them quite so large.

Why was he contemplating the size of his moose’s antlers? He was doing something.

Oh, yes. That.

He made his way to his shelves and slid his fingers delicately across the books on the top shelf before landing on a single one, its touch all familiar. He bit his lip as he pulled it from its confines, careful not to let the others fall with it.

He let in a deep breath before opening the front cover, his eyes falling upon the words first inscribed there. _From Christine, our records - for my dragon_.

He felt his eyes wet with tears as he smiled to himself. He cherished the sight before he let the cover fall closed, then holding the records close to his chest. He turned to his moose, and the creature let out a low noise in its throat.

“Do you mind fetching sticks and logs for the fire? Tell the others the same.” He took a final glance at the records before he turned back towards the window. “Tonight, we feast.”

And as the fire roared, he placed the records gently within its flames, watching it blaze as the ancient aching in his chest burned away into nothingness alongside it. If Anthony and Petros caught sight of it when they returned, they said nothing, and instead spoke of how wonderfully the fish smelled. The surrounding creatures of the forest seemed to think the same, buzzing and chirping and loitering around the fire.

Somewhere, in the underworld, he knew that this is what Christine would have truly wanted. Stephanos had found his happiness, manifested in his lover and his newfound son. As his past began to fade, he knew he could finally see the light beyond.

On the glorious Earth, beneath the heavens, among the forests and all that lived there, what lie ahead of them was, put simply, _eternity_.

**Author's Note:**

> any thoughts


End file.
